Soup and Chances
by margerykempe
Summary: One shot. "Choi Young Do hated his birthday."


Choi Young Do hated his birthday.

It started when his father forgot his tenth birthday because he was too busy taking a "business" trip to Fiji with his secretary. Every year since then, it had gotten progressively worse. One year he'd tried to throw his own birthday party only to discover the girl he was in love with playing "Five Minutes in Heaven" with another boy. The worst was the year when his beloved dog, Hades, had escaped his leash and almost been hit by a car.

He made it a point now to not leave the hotel at all on his birthday. It was safer. The staff knew to avoid him on that date—his father no longer cared at all. Young Do preferred it that way.

It was five o'clock and the day was nearly over. He felt relief wash over him. _ Just a few more hours._

The doorbell rang.

Young Do stared at the door in surprise. _Who would be so foolish?_

The doorbell rang three more times in rapid succession.

He stood slowly, eyeing the door warily. It was silent for a moment—then a low, steady thump began.

_They're kicking the door._

Angry, he strode over, swinging the door wide, ready to give the person on the other side a piece of his mind.

It opened to reveal Cha Eun Sang, mid-kick, holding a covered cooking pot by the handles.

She pushed her way past him and moved to the coffee table, setting the pot down. "Thank you for finally opening the door. That was getting heavy."

He stared at her dumbfounded as she moved around the apartment, gathering bowls, spoons, and napkins from his small kitchen area and setting them neatly on the table by the pot.

He finally found his voice. "What—" His voice sounded hoarse, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "What are you doing?"

She sat in front of the coffee table, knees tucked underneath her body, and took the top off the pot. Steam rose and obscured her face for a moment.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm feeding you." She continued to avoid his eyes as she served the food.

"I wasn't aware that we had that type of relationship." He walked toward the table and stared down into the pot.

It was seaweed soup.

He froze. "How did you find out?" he asked, his voice cold.

She paused for a moment, still avoiding his gaze, then placed a bowl on the side of the table nearest him. "I overheard Rachel talking."

_Of course. Rachel and her big mouth._ "I'd like you to leave."

"I'll leave once I see you eat this soup."

"Leave and take that with you."

She slammed the serving spoon down on the glass table hard enough that he was worried it might break. She looked up at him and he could see the determination on her face. "Eat the soup. Then I'll leave."

"I don't celebrate my birthday."

"We're not celebrating. We are eating soup."

"Cha Eun Sang—"

"No!" Her voice rose. "You will sit and you will eat this soup because it took me hours to make it and I had to throw out the first batch because it was too salty." She looked as if she were on the verge of tears and he felt a small prickle of guilt.

They stared at each other, each trying to make the other break first.

Young Do finally gave in.

Reluctantly, he moved to sit across from her, crossing his long legs awkwardly as he tried to move close to the table. She watched him silently, then handed him a spoon.

He looked down into the bowl. It smelled halfway decent. He dipped his spoon in and took a small amount of the broth, raising it to his mouth.

"This is good," he said, looking up at her in surprise.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not a terrible cook."

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes.

"Why do you hate it so much?" Her voice was soft—tentative—she didn't look up from her bowl.

He felt himself tense in response to the question. "Nothing good ever happens on my birthday."

"Nothing good _has_ happened on your birthday—in the past at least—but that doesn't mean that nothing good will _ever_ happen on your birthday." Her voice sounded strange to his ears, but he couldn't understand why.

"No, Cha Eun Sang. I'm old enough now to understand that birthdays are nothing more than a way to mark the passing of another year."

She set her spoon down on the table and looked directly into his eyes. "What if something good happened for once?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if something good happened? Would you—could you believe that your birthday is a reason for celebration?" Her face was determined, but there was something else—

He struggled to understand her meaning. "I suppose— But that's why I don't take chances. I stay here. I avoid people. It's safer that way."

"You let me in."

"You practically broke down my door."

"But I'm here."

"Yes, but—"

She moved around the table and took his face in her hands. "I'm here now." Then she kissed him.

He felt something inside release and his tension drained away. He moved his arms around her, pulling her closer and deepened the kiss.

She broke away, trying to catch her breath. Then she looked up into his eyes. "Take a chance this year. Something good _will _happen. Make it happen." She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in close again. "Take. A. Chance." She punctuated each word with a gentle kiss.

It was the last time Choi Young Do avoided his birthday.


End file.
